Waiting
by scribhneoir
Summary: He would wait forever if that's how long it would take.


The quiet was slowly, but surely, suffocating him.

He had to get away.

He was out the door and down the corridor before he had even thought about where he was going…down three flights of stairs before he realised that he really didn't care where he was going.

"Hey watch it!" an annoyed voice shouted from the outside door as he pushed it open and it banged against the stone walls. A few solitary people glanced towards him as he strode across the courtyard, but they quickly turned back to their own woes and left him to his own.

The nearest tree provided a respite as he rested against it and sank to the ground, not caring that it was an early January morning and the ground was still partly frozen. In fact, he welcomed the icy chill as it crept through his bones and provided a welcome distraction from the constant ache of pain. The chill in the air forced him to breathe deeply.

In and out….his breath appeared before him.

In and out….the mist dissipating.

In and out…

It was all he could do.

He opened his hand to reveal the still pristine quill that rested in his palm. He hated it, the clean nib that revealed the fact that it had never been used…the perfect feathers still in their shop bought condition. He hated it…despised it…and yet couldn't let it go. It was just an ordinary quill, nothing special, but as his long fingers traced its outline, he knew he would never let it go.

"You're him, aren't you?" the loud voice drew his attention to the pyjama clad man who was suddenly standing before him. Jumping to his feet, Ron quickly placed the quill back in his pocket before warily approaching the man.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He said, trying to stay calm.

The man, who couldn't have been more than fifty, leaned forward and pointed a shaky finger towards Ron.

"The great and famous Ronald Weasley." The sarcasm dripped from his voice as he advanced towards Ron. The younger man sighed, took a step back and ran a hand  
through his hair. He knew he could never escape the recognition…even here.

"How did you survive then?"

The sudden question and the abrupt change in tone startled Ron as the sick man closed the distance between them. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that they also had the attention of some of the others in the courtyard.

"I'm sorry?" he glanced about for any medical personnel, trying to catch the eye of some-one who could help the man.

"How did you survive…"the shorter man jabbed his finger into Ron's chest whilst glaring up at him. "…how did you survive when he didn't?!"

The silence was almost palpable around the courtyard as Ron dared to ask the question.

"He?"

The threatening glare immediately crumbled and was replaced by tear filled eyes. The man's hand quickly fell to his side and he immediately took several steps away.

"Alphie…my nephew…a trained Auror he was…bloody good at it too…"

It wasn't the first time Ron had had such an encounter, and he was sure that it wouldn't be the last. It was, however, the first time such an encounter had taken place in the hospital grounds. He laid a cautious hand on the man's shoulder and turned to lead him back to the door, grateful to see a mediwitch making her way towards them.  
The older man seemed to have lost all words, having spat them so virulently towards Ron only moments before. The fight was gone from him. He patted Ron's hand as he started to move away and looked him in the eye. Ron knew exactly what he was trying to say, it was a very familiar anger…a very familiar pain that he had seen in the other man's eyes.

"It's alright really, don't worry about it."

He watched as the man was led back inside, his slipper clad feet shuffling through the door, and waited until the silence returned and the attention was gone. Ron returned to his cold spot under the tree and waited.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Here." a chipped mug with a faded slogan across it appeared in front of him.

He didn't even look up as he accepted the mug of sweet tea as well as the company of the other man as he sat down beside him.

"Did you even manage to get a hour or two of sleep last night then?"

It was the same question he heard every morning, he gave the same answer…silence.  
He did smile slightly as a bacon sandwich appeared in front of him.

"At least I can make sure you're eating then."

They ate breakfast in silence as they watched people come and go and the sky above them start to get lighter.

He finally found his voice.

" You just starting or finishing?"

"Got off around midnight."

The days may have been running into each other at this stage but Ron knew what time of the day it was.

"And you're back here at the crack of dawn for what reason?"

Seamus' cheeks turned a red that had nothing to do with the biting cold morning and he tugged on the black woollen hat that covered his head as his eyes darted about.

Ron sighed " Seamus, you don't have to keep checking up on us y'know?"

Seamus started to rummage around in the deep pockets of his cloak, showing a quick glimpse of the rather rumbled trainee healer robes that lurked beneath. He retrieved a large bag of spring onion crisps from the pocket of the cloak that he had wrapped around him, opened them, offered Ron a crisp and took one himself before he answered.

"I'll have you know that I swapped a shift with whatshisname."

"whatshisname?"

"Yeah, y'know, yer man with the black hair."

"Well, that's vague."

"He's also known as the man with the girlfriend who threatens to do unmentionable things to me when I don't swap shifts."

"ah right, him." realisation dawned and Ron grinned as he accepted a crisp and drained the remains of the tea from the cup which he now saw had been 'borrowed' from the staff tea room.

"So, where's everyone else at this morning then?"

Ron retrieved a twig from the ground at the base of the tree and randomly threw it across the courtyard as he tried to remember everyone's whereabouts. Eventually he settled on the vague and accurate.

"They'll be back in a bit, home…work…the usual."

"Has there been any change through the night then?"

Ron's gaze returned to the hospital's courtyard and the random smattering of frozen plants dotted around it. Once again it was the same question….and once again, he could give the same answer.

"No, nothing."

"It's early yet Ron," Seamus rubbed his hands together in an attempt to fight off the biting cold. "It's only been a couple of weeks since the attack and y'know it takes a while for curses like that to run their course."

"But they are no guarantees, are there?" Ron challenged his friend, both of them knowing the answer…neither of them needing to hear it aloud.

Ron glanced towards his friend and saw the dark circles that lurked beneath his eyes, knowing very well that the same was seen under his own.

"You're working too hard."

"Yeah." there was no denying it.

"Seriously mate."

"Ron, what else would I be doin' then?" Seamus stood, scrunched up the crisp packet and stuffed it into his pocket. He reached down and offered Ron a hand up. Ron took a moment to ensure that the quill was safely in his pocket before he grasped his friends hand and pulled himself to his feet. Seamus reached up and placed a hand on the taller man's shoulder.

"Besides, who'd keep you company when you're freezing your arse off in the early hours then?"

-----------------------------------------------------

He walked with Seamus just as far as the second floor staff room where Seamus ducked in to get ready for work, having already made sure Ron promised to meet him in the canteen for lunch later that day. He continued to climb the stairs making his way to the familiar fourth floor. He ignored the lift, as he always did.

Just as a quick escape is needed sometimes…a calm return is essential.

He took a moment to just breath before he opened the door and stepped into the, all too familiar, ward.

"Mr Weasley…"

"Good Morning Sir."

"How are you today Mr Weasley?"

He responded to the various familiar greetings with half smiles and shrugs, intent on the person he had spotted at the end of the corridor.

"What's happened?"

The tired looking Healer looked up from the notes he's been scribbling on a chart and peered at Ron through his thick glasses before he responded.

"No change Mr Weasley," he sucked in a deep breath and placed the ink stained, battered quill behind his right ear. "I was just completing the regular check ups, try not to worry." He patted Ron on the arm as he began to move towards the next room. "Just keep talking to her as much as possible."

Ron's attention was on the quill behind the older man's ear as he disappeared through the next door. A quill which had been used, dipped in ink, broken and repaired. One that had been witness to frustration and success…moments of joy and sorrow.

The pristine quill he retrieved from his pocket and examined under the harsh hospital light knew no such moments. It was simply waiting. He hated it, yet held it reverentially.

Fighting back tears he reached for the door handle and stepped through. As was his habit, he started talking before the door was even closed, making his way quickly to the still figure by the window.

"Morning, I just saw Seamus downstairs," he said as he quickly moved across the room, "the man works too hard, he left here when it was dark and was back before it was light."

He took a breath.

Silence.

"I think he still blames himself for what happened with Dean, not that he'll ever admit it of course. I think he's still waiting for him to come back."

Silence.

The curtains had been drawn back and the head of her bed was raised slightly. The rays from the early morning sun danced across her face as her eyes stared at something only she could see.

He reached forward, brushed an errant strand of hair from her forehead and placed a gentle kiss upon her lips.

"Morning Hermione."

Silence.

"I miss you."

The quill that Hermione had bought, but never used, was retrieved from Ron's pocket and carefully placed on the bedside table. Now, it waited for her.

He would keep the conversation going as he waited for her to join in, because the silence was not right. There should be laughter and arguments, whispers and shouts…everything…anything.

He sat on the bed and took her hand in his. He would talk about anything and everything to fill the silence and bring her back to him.

He would wait forever if that's how long it would take.


End file.
